


superposition

by notbecca



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Breaking Up & Making Up, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, Handcuffs, M/M, Masturbation, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:22:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28722783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notbecca/pseuds/notbecca
Summary: "But what if we mess it up again?" His voice came out soft, something that always took Majesty by surprise. "I know what it feels like to lose you.""And I know what it feels like to love you, and I'd risk everything for it."----A collection of stories where two NPCs must navigate their relationship in two different dimensions.
Relationships: Original D&D Character(s)/Original D&D Character(s)
Kudos: 2





	1. to want

**Author's Note:**

> Necessary campaign background for story:
> 
> People have begun to vanish in the town of West End, most recently the mayor's granddaughter, Angie. The local Guard faction can find no clues to their whereabouts or who - or what - is behind these disappearances. Atlas, the Captain of the Guard, begins to suspect the town's newest addition, a therapist named Majesty, who was captured the hearts of many... himself included.
> 
> This chapter takes place entirely in the main dimension.

Atlas has been to Majesty's enough that he can find the way tipsy and in the dark. It was a testament to his lieutenant that he was even slightly buzzed, but he knew he'd sleep it off and be fine the next morning while that poor bastard would be down and out for the entirety of tomorrow. 

Majesty hadn't been involved in a drinking contest with anyone other than himself and he had certainly lost, now thoroughly shit-faced. He stumbles over a loose rock on the road and is left dangling off Atlas's arm, which tickles him so much he can't even get to his hooves from laughter. Atlas opts to drag him along.

"Oh my," he hiccups, "d-do I even weigh 'nything to you?"

"Not really," Atlas answers, though he does stop and wait for Majesty to right himself. 

The smaller man's grip tightens around his forearm. "So  _ strong _ ," he coos, and Atlas feels a flush of heat bloom in his chest that has nothing to do with the alcohol. "Well, th's one's me," Majesty slurs out, disentangling himself from Atlas and fumbling through his pouch for his keys. It takes him a good few tries to get the key in the lock which he finds just as hilarious as everything else that night. He pauses once he finally does unlock his door, shifting his weight from the doorknob back to Atlas's arm.

"Y'alright?"

Majesty's pupil-less gaze is hard to follow but now Atlas thinks he's looking straight into him. "Thanks," he says quietly.

"For what?"

"Tonight."

His heart skips in his chest because that sounds too… intimate. Like he'd done more than just invite Majesty along with his officers for a night at the pub. After all, they did that from time to time. It wasn't unusual. It wasn't anything special. 

Except it  _ was _ . Normally he'd go and sit at the end of the bar and grunt responses as necessary but when Majesty was there it felt… right. The tiefling exuded a vibrant warmth that permeated even Atlas, coaxed him out of his own head and into the moment and he'd…  _ enjoyed _ it. He'd had  _ fun _ . He'd looked over to Majesty when his lieutenant tapped out and the radiant smile Majesty was sending his way had set off fireworks in his stomach.

"It was nothing," he says instead, because they were professionals, right? Majesty was his therapist, occasionally his coworker. That was all they could be.

"I mean it," Majesty mumbles, leaning even more heavily onto Atlas's arm. Though he doesn't weigh much, something about his presence is setting alarms off in Atlas's mind. "This's been… really nice. You're lovely." Majesty blinks up at him from under thick lashes and the world is  _ tilting _ and it seems to be tilting towards  _ him _ . Atlas reaches out to catch himself, catch Majesty, his fingers finding the curls on the back of his head and it's just as soft as Atlas could have dreamed.

Those brilliant golden eyes close and his fingers, slender and laden with rings, slip onto the sides of Atlas's face and bring them together. He's a little lazy with the kiss but it's probably because he's drunk. Atlas tastes so many different things on his lips and he tilts his head to catch him deeper. Majesty sucks in a breath and Atlas uses the break to run his tongue tentatively over Majesty's lips and this  _ delights _ the man. Suddenly his gentle fingers are curling in tight to the short fur on Atlas's face and the kiss becomes something  _ else _ , as if they've tilted so much that they're falling together, into each other, crashing, over and over, teeth and tongue and hands and lips.

Atlas grabs tight to Majesty's waist as the man practically crawls up him, one hand digging into his ass, the other following his thigh as one leg wraps around him and there's  _ friction _ now, right where he needs it, and when he grips Majesty's tail by the base he breaks off the kiss in the most beautiful, breathless moan that has Atlas even more out of his mind than he already was.

But of course, that's what brings Majesty back. The man stiffens slowly in Atlas's arms, his mouth pausing under Atlas's tongue, eyes flying open.

"Oh," he says quietly. " _ Oh _ ."

He drops back down onto unsteady hooves and he starts to cant backwards. His hands light on Atlas's arms only for as long as it takes him to get his balance and then he withdraws completely, collapsing back against his front door. His hair is mussed, his lips flushed and dark and Atlas would fall back into him in a second if not for the cold, terrified clarity in Majesty's gaze.

"I'm so sorry," he breathes, and it hurts. It  _ hurts _ . Majesty's shaking his head and pressing his fingertips to his mouth but it feels like it's happening miles away from Atlas. "We can't," he says. "Sorry... 'm so sorry..." And he turns back to his house and lets himself in. The clicking of the lock echos in his hollow chest.

* * *

  
  


Angie's been missing for a month now and no one says it but they've given up. His officers have stopped looking so haunted, like they're no longer losing sleep over it. Like they've settled into this new normal without Angie. Like it's over. 

But it's not fucking over, not for Atlas. His officers have looked into Majesty, per his request, but turned up nothing and somehow don't find that odd in the slightest. They  _ trust _ him. They don't know that Majesty can let them down. Not like Atlas knows.

He can't help himself that night on his way home, because it just so happens that his route goes past Majesty's house and he happens to see the man walking home, probably after a session with one of his officers because he has the whole office tied around his godsdamn finger.

(and he can remember how they feel on his cheeks, in his fur, gripping his horns, fisting into the fabric of his coat as he hoists himself up against Atlas and  _ grinds _ )

He's at Majesty's house again and he hasn't kept his presence a secret so Majesty turns and waits for him at his front door, arms folded, eyes cold. Had they ever been so cold? Atlas swears he can still feel the blaze from that night, the fire that Majesty radiated that engulfed them both and it was  _ his _ fault, not Atlas's, that they'd caught at all.

But it's a different kind of fire that Atlas feels as he grabs Majesty by the lapels, as he pulls him close and warns him that he knows, he fucking  _ knows _ , and that Majesty can't lie forever.

"I told you I'd never lie to you, didn't I?" Majesty says, his tone hard, unshaking. "At our first session. And I never have."

Atlas's vision tinges red and he snorts. "You lied to me that night after the bar."

He sees  _ something _ flash behind the impassive mask of his face and Atlas wants to see him break, wants to see him scared, or remorseful, or  _ anything _ , not this icy, detached glare.

"About what?" he asks, voice thin and dangerous. "That I was sorry? That I wanted you?" That glint is back in his eyes and it's burning Atlas from the inside out. He takes in a long breath and tilts his head back just a little, enough that the lithe, curved expanse of his neck is exposed to Atlas, submissive, seductive. "That night," he murmurs, "I fucked myself on the biggest toy I had wishing it was  _ you _ , wishing I'd let you come upstairs and rail me the way we  _ both _ wanted-"

" _Shut_ _up_ ," Atlas hisses through gritted teeth, his grip faltering in Majesty's coat. 

"Did you get off too?" he continues calmly. "Did you get home and jack yourself off thinking of me?" His gaze flicks down, back up. "Had to've. Gods, you were so  _ hard- _ "

Atlas throws Majesty back against his door and gains a sick satisfaction that he wasn't expecting it, stumbling onto his ass in the dirt at his hooves. But he doesn't stick around, doesn't let Majesty get another word in. He stalks away, his hands clenched.

* * *

  
  


His fists are still balled and shaking as he sits awake in bed that night, fuming, that fire roaring in his chest, in his head.

_ Where's your anger? _ he hears.

He feels Majesty's touch on his hands.

On his cheeks.

He curls his fingers even tighter and it's the only cold he can feel against the inferno dancing under his skin.

_ Where's your anger? _

He slams his fist down into the mattress just to spite the Majesty in his head - because he's  _ always _ in his head, no matter how hard he tries to ignore it.

_ Let it travel up your arms _ .

Those fingers, feather-light as they trace up his forearms, curl across his biceps, over his collarbone.

_ You were so _ hard-

And he  _ is _ hard, he's  _ been _ hard, and he's trying to ignore it but it's curling in his gut, like iron, like Majesty's fingers as they gripped him tight, holding himself up as he ground his hips against Atlas's cock.

_ Let it fill your lungs _ , the Majesty inside of him says,  _ breathe it out. Let it go _ .

Let it  _ go _ .

He digs the fingers of one hand into the mattress as he curls the other around his cock and pumps hard, and the tension  _ snaps _ .

_ Did you get off too _ ?

He bucks into his hand, pumps faster, harder, as if he can just get it over with quick and that will make it okay somehow.

_ Did you get home _ , Majesty asks, chin tipped up, neck exposed to him - and Atlas wishes to the gods that he'd just bitten into that fucking throat -  _ and jack yourself off thinking of me? _

He squeezes tight at the base of his cock, holding back when he feels he's about to come - but it's too late. His hips jerk with the sudden force of it. He barely has time to grip the head, to try and catch some of the release before it goes all over his sheets. He isn't successful. 

And gods help him he still wishes it was Majesty clamped around him as he came, walls of whatever hole Majesty has seizing around him as he thrusts through his orgasm, those lashes heavy and full, those molten eyes peeking out from under them, hungry,  _ blazing _ . 

He collapses back onto his pillow and heaves. Blessedly his body is buzzing enough that he can't feel the cum coating his hand, his thigh, the blanket. He refuses to move, to break that hypnotic state, to come back down and realize what he's done.

_ I'd never lie to you,  _ Majesty mutters _. I wanted you _ .

He brings his fist down into the mattress but it doesn't feel like enough, doesn't release the anger, the wildfire roiling in his gut. He hoists himself onto his knees and with a  _ crack _ he punches the wall behind his bed and  _ that _ does something. The world pinholes to the throbbing in his knuckles and he focuses everything he has on it, rides the ebb and flow of the pain so he can't feel the anger anymore, the pleasure anymore, the  _ hurt _ anymore.

I wanted you.

_ I wanted you. _


	2. coping mechanisms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don't know what's going on any better than you," Atlas replies, "but I know you're real, and I'm real." And his tone is so rigid and so certain that in the moment Majesty can do nothing but believe him. Atlas lets the hand on Majesty's back travel up to his neck, cupping it easily in his palm, his thumb running slowly against the line of Majesty's jaw. Tremors run up his spine. "And this is real."
> 
> Majesty's breath catches and he blinks the tears out of his eyes. He brings his hands to Atlas's cheeks and while the fur is still coarse, like it is on his arms, it's just a little softer here. "Convince me. Please."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Necessary campaign background for story:
> 
> This segment takes place in a separate dimension where none of the events of the previous chapter have happened or will happen. Following a mine collapse outside of the town of West End, the remnant of an old and dead god was awakened. Its rebirth created a pocket dimension which sucked the nearby town and its inhabitants into a duplicate reality that moved independently from the main dimension. Majesty and Atlas, who were working together to investigate the abnormalities occurring around town, become cognizant of the state of their existence in a bubble, doomed to an unstable and non-linear reality.

Majesty goes to work, because he can't think of what else to do. It's something to occupy his mind instead of sitting up sleepless in bed, which he's spent the past ten or so hours doing. The officers are moving about their day so casually that he almost,  _ almost _ believes it was all some dream, some horrible, fucked up dream - but then he catches the secretary's gaze and sees that wide-eyed hollowness he feels and he's forcibly reminded that it was no dream at all. 

It's Tuesday today. He starts his Tuesdays with a morning session. Kamala, one of the higher ranking deputies. He'd seen her responding to the house that had collapsed last night but today that building is still standing and Kamala's most pressing issue is how she hasn't heard from her sister in a while and she wonders how she's doing. How big her niece must be by now. Majesty suggests she write to her. Kamala gives a vague agreement. They end the session before long. 

With some luck he manages not to throw up until he gets home. It comes over him out of nowhere but he freshens himself up hastily and tries to go about the house doing his usual chores. He's neglected his dusting for too long. When he gets to the cabinets he looks dolefully at his tea leaves and thinks to himself how he needs to order more, then realizes he  _ has _ ordered more. Twice. He'd never received them. He'd never noticed. 

The day  _ crawls _ . He tries to find odd jobs to bide his time but he stops part-way through, overcome by the realization that it's pointless. Why bother organizing a backlog of patient's files or watering the  _ fucking _ gardenias when he's not even sure if any of it is actually tangible, if anything he's doing is lasting, if it's  _ real _ . He slams one of his vases off the mantle and breaks down crying beside it. By the time he gets to the evening it feels like weeks have passed and he's aged a decade. He's got his session with Atlas and he sees no reason not to go, so he goes. 

Atlas is sitting behind his desk, which is unusual. The bull is normally standing behind it, if he's there at all. He has his heavy head propped in his hands. He doesn't even look up when Majesty enters and seats himself primly on the uncomfortable wooden bench across from him.

"Don't suppose you covered shit like this in your fancy therapist classes?" Atlas grouses, and to both of their surprise Majesty laughs. And he can't  _ stop _ laughing once he gets started - it takes control of him, he can't get in a good breath, his entire body trembling with it. He feels as if he's gone absolutely hysterical. All at once the peals of laughter become sobs, and he has his head buried in his hands, crying against Atlas's desk. 

The hand that settles on his back is large, firm, steadying. Majesty draws in stuttering gasps of air and attempts to focus on that pressure, shaking violently as he tries to get himself under control. He does, eventually. He tips his head back and sees Atlas crouched beside him, eyes large, shining.

"I'm so sorry," Majesty rasps, swallowing hard. "That was unprofessional of me-"

"I think we're all well past professionalism here," Atlas rumbles. Majesty is more aware of the hand on his back. It slides a little lower. Fire ignites in his chest.

He doesn't know why - perhaps the floodgates had already broken, he suspects, after bursting into that fit of hysterics, and there was nowhere else to go but down - but he sighs out, "I  _ feel _ real. It can't be… it  _ has _ to be real, Atlas, the way I-" he sobs out a watery laugh and shakes his head. "I've never felt more alive than when I'm with you. That can't be an illusion."

Atlas doesn't flinch and Majesty suspects, then, that he already knew. Has known, probably. He was so pompous to think he could hide anything from this man. "I don't know what's going on any better than you," Atlas replies, "but I know you're real, and I'm real." And his tone is so rigid and so certain that in the moment Majesty can do nothing but believe him. Atlas lets the hand on Majesty's back travel up to his neck, cupping it easily in his palm, his thumb running slowly against the line of Majesty's jaw. Tremors run up his spine. "And this is real."

Majesty's breath catches and he blinks the tears out of his eyes. He brings his hands to Atlas's cheeks and while the fur is still coarse, like it is on his arms, it's just a little softer here. "Convince me. Please."

Atlas's gaze tips down to Majesty's mouth and then back up to his eyes. "I can do my best," he says, his voice soft.

"Come home with me, then," Majesty breathes, his lips brushing Atlas's. "I want to feel something. Make me feel something."

"I..." He hesitates, curling his fingers into the hair at the base of Majesty's head, and this close Majesty can appreciate how deep and beautiful his eyes are. Majesty presses his lips against Atlas's, kissing him softly, once, twice, many times. It's without urgency, it's lingering, and it's  _ reciprocated _ . Majesty's heart flutters. "I guess we can afford to cut this session a little short, huh."

* * *

  
  
  


" _ Atlas _ ."

The bull responds with a non-committal snort, his fingers still rubbing so  _ maddeningly _ slow.

" _ Atlas _ ," Majesty says again, more a sob than spoken word, and the hand on the base of his tail tightens.

"You alright?" he grumbles. His voice is out of breath, as if he'd been doing anything more labor intensive than fingering Majesty open so slow that he feels he's going to jitter out of his skin.

The bed creaks with the weight as Atlas shifts his position - it was big, but it certainly wasn't made with a minotaur in mind. Majesty grinds his forehead against one side of Atlas's neck and drags his nails down hard against the other, and this must feel good because he draws another, more intense shiver out of him. " _ Please _ ," Majesty seethes. "I'm ready. It's fine. Just fuck me."

He both sees and feels the muscles twitching in Atlas's face. "I don't want to hurt you," he murmurs, so softly that it takes Majesty a moment to register.

"You won't," he replies, digging his fingers into the short fur of his neck. "You won't, honey, c'mon,  _ please _ . Let me feel you."

He intakes a sharp breath and hesitantly drags his fingers out of Majesty and  _ oh _ the emptiness takes him by surprise. They'd been working him open so long and so slow that he'd grown accustomed to the fullness, and he whines at the loss. But Atlas reaches his hand over to the nightstand and slathers a generous amount of oil onto his palm, and Majesty watches as he pumps his fist around his cock, now fully unsheathed and erect.  _ That's going to be me _ , he thinks deliriously as he watches the fist cover and uncover his dick. It sends a sudden, violent thrill through his spine and he arches up just a little, his tail shaking against Atlas's leg. 

Atlas brings his free hand to Majesty's ass and pulls him even more open, and though his nails are short the pressure of his fingertips are biting enough. He thinks it might leave bruises. He hopes it leaves bruises. Something to remember this by, to prove it  _ happened _ .

Finally, blessedly, he feels the tip of Atlas's cock between his legs. Majesty whimpers and grinds his hips, letting it slide all the way against him, feeling its length, its width. It's soft in a way other beings were not and the drag is heavenly against his throbbing heat. Atlas groans as Majesty ruts himself against it a few more times before he catches Majesty's hips firmly and lines him up. When Atlas pushes into him in one confident thrust Majesty immediately forgives the long, agonizing preparation, because he goes in so smoothly and deeply that it punches an airy moan out of him.

He's so _big_ , and it's a pitifully stupid observation because Atlas is big in general and Majesty had _seen_ how big he was when he'd shed his pants earlier that night, but now that he's lodged so completely inside of Majesty it's the only thing he can focus on. And _gods_ , he thinks, running his hand over his pussy and down the remainder of Atlas's length, he's not even _halfway_ _in_.

"Yes," he breathes, "just like that, c'mon, baby, move."

Atlas chances his first push further with a heavy sigh and Majesty cries out, dropping his head back. He'd thought he was full before - this was beyond anything he could've imagined. Atlas stretches Majesty's walls as his cock jerks its way in deeper, deeper, past the places his fingers could reach, inching forward with each rolling thrust, and Majesty's breathing becomes loud and whiny. 

"You alright?" Atlas asks again and Majesty can only answer by nodding vaguely and rolling his hips with the force of Atlas's motion, not trusting his ability to speak.

One hand is on the small of his back, a grounding presence, keeping him from falling over, the other cupped under one thigh, and with just that one hand he's able to hold Majesty up and pull him back down and  _ use _ him and Majesty leans into Atlas and keens against his chest.

And he asks  _ again _ if Majesty's alright and the man sobs out a laugh and works biting kisses into his throat as they move together. He curls one arm around the bull's neck for balance and buries the other between them, rubbing his engorged clit. The pleasure is overwhelming. He feels hollowed out, like his body doesn't have the processing power to handle all this and breathe at the same time. Atlas moves to hold both of Majesty's legs and brings him up, till Atlas is the only thing holding him in the air. He snaps him back down on his cock and Majesty is so, so certain he's going to break in half and he won't even care.

He cries out an approximation of Atlas's name and a " _ fuck! _ " for good measure, but the pace doesn't slow. Majesty is puddy in his hands, a hole for Atlas to use and it's  _ amazing _ . He's so deep, so impossibly  _ deep _ , and that's what they'd aimed for when they chose to go anally but it's so much it feels like Atlas makes up his entire core. Even all that prep couldn't open him wide enough or deep enough for Atlas's cock and so Majesty has to grip him tight and  _ take _ it. He's babbling now, he thinks, some assortments of praises and words that almost sound like Atlas's name, and noises that almost sound like words.

Majesty thumbs his clit hard and grazes the tips of his fingers against Atlas's cock as it pounds into his hole and a shiver wracks his body. He realizes his body is roiling towards orgasm, which while it's happened this way for him before it was never this sudden. Majesty arches into his own touch as he bears down harder on his clit and all at once the angle is  _ right _ . He gasps out a watery cry and pushes back onto Atlas's cock. It's almost immediate. His entire body clenches tight and Atlas can't move anymore inside him, caught up in the waves of Majesty's climax. 

He's only afforded a slight warning by the hitching in Atlas's breath before he comes too, and it's just as powerful as the rest of him. The muscles in Atlas's stomach go rigid. He can feel Atlas trying to pull out but Majesty's body won't let him, and Atlas spills into him and it's so  _ much _ . Majesty grinds his way through it, feeling the delicious pull of Atlas's cock on his rim.

Atlas falls back against the stack of pillows, his chest heaving. As Majesty starts to pull himself off of Atlas he feels cum ooze out and he shudders, but Atlas grips Majesty's waist and holds him in place. He's too exhausted to fight it so he just leans back on his arms and breathes as his brain buzzes. 

They sit like this for a long moment; Atlas laid on the bed with his head thrown back, panting, Majesty resting on waning arms, still impaled on Atlas's slowly softening cock. Majesty chances it and leans down, pressing himself flush against Atlas, trying to maneuver such that his cock stays inside him. It slips, and with it comes more of Atlas's seed, sliding its way down over his folds. Majesty trembles.

He mouths at anything he can reach from his position, bringing one arm weakly around behind him. He palms Atlas's cock and slowly, slowly pulls himself off of it, relishing the way the cum slips down his perineum and over his cunt, soaking wet from his climax. Atlas curls fingers into Majesty's hair and grips tight in warning. "Too much," he groans. 

"I don't know about that," Majesty replies, breath puffing wet and hot against Atlas's chest. He drags his fingers down the length of his pussy and delights in the feel of their releases together before pushing two fingers in up to the knuckle with little more than a grunt. "I could keep going."

Atlas's gaze is dark as it lingers on Majesty, but then he brings his free hand down, tracing lightly over his spine, before hiking him up where his hands can reach, running a finger through their mess and plunging in alongside Majesty.

"Oh  _ fuck- _ !" Majesty whines, grinding his hips. His clit, still hot, still sensitive, is pulsing with overstimulation as it rubs against Atlas's fur, and Atlas's thick, blunt finger is already stretching him wide. He curls it experimentally a few times as he pumps before Majesty jolts against him.

"There, baby?" he asks, his voice low and winded, and Majesty gasps out a staggered breath.

"Yeah,  _ gods _ ," he moans, rolling his hips faster. "Yeah,  _ yeah _ , there." Atlas bullies another finger in and hits the spot hard, again and again and it's  _ way _ more than enough. His second orgasm hits him like a tidal wave, his body pulling tight at the seams. He can't even push a scream out of his closed throat but he claws his nails down Atlas's shoulder for purchase. He feels his release spill out around his and Atlas's fingers and pool between their legs. It takes him a while to come down this time, riding Atlas's fingers until the ringing leaves his ears. Atlas pulls himself out of Majesty again and places the hand on the base of his tail, rubbing comforting circles into it with his thumb.

Majesty drags labored breaths in as he lies bonelessly on top of Atlas. The bull's heartbeat is like a war drum, loud, deep, powerful. Between the lack of sleep and back-to-back orgasms Majesty feels himself slipping out of consciousness. Atlas must feel it too because he gently pats Majesty's cheek.

"Hey. We oughta clean you up before you pass out."

"Mm." Majesty snuffles his face petulantly into Atlas's fur.

"Either you're going on your own or I'm making you," Atlas mutters, and it's barely a threat.

Majesty hums back. "I think I'd like to see that."

So Atlas slides one hand under his ass and one hand over his back and swings them out of bed, holding Majesty effortlessly to his chest. He positions Majesty over one shoulder, cradling his arms around Majesty's legs. The breath whooshes out of him.

"You keep showing off like this and I might make you go a third round," he coos, running his fingers over Atlas's ear. It flicks under his touch and Majesty giggles in his delirious exhaustion. 

"You're not going to make it to the tub."

"That's a challenge, Captain."

"It's an observation."

He does make it to the tub, thank you very much, which is for the best because it means he can heat the water. He does, however, doze off once Atlas settles him into the washtub, but it absolutely is not his fault. Not when Atlas is so gentle about it, running tender fingers through his hair with his free hand as he works through cleaning him up. When he's done Atlas rubs him thoroughly with a towel in a way that Majesty normally would grump would muss his fur, but he's too gone to complain, melting against Atlas's shoulder, warm, clean, and content. 

At some point he feels himself being rolled into bed but Majesty clings onto Atlas's arm. "Stay," he pleads softly. Atlas looks down at him for a long while and Majesty is transfixed by the way the candlelight catches in his lashes.

Then he feels hands dig under him and scoot him to the side. He fists into the fur of Atlas's back as the bull sidles in beside him, working awkwardly to organize them in a bed not big enough for him.

"Like we were," Majesty says, starting to climb on top of him.

"We're not going round three," he grumbles, but obliges, rolling onto his back. Majesty slots himself against the bull, nuzzling his head into the dip between his pecs. He smells like sweat and Majesty's shampoo. 

And he sleeps, at last. Maybe it was the physical, mental, or emotional exhaustion - all three, likely - but on top of that he feels… safe. Like he's allowed to sleep now, like things will be alright when he wakes up. He doesn't know what's going to happen tomorrow or any time after that, but at least for tonight he feels secure. He feels alive.


	3. restraint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His tail, thick and powerful, curls up between Atlas's legs and strokes long and hard against him. Atlas bucks forward with the motion, his hips meeting Majesty's ass as that tail slips down and coils loosely around one thigh, holding him there.
> 
> "C'mon then," Majesty goads, grinding back. "Really give it to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Necessary campaign background for story:
> 
> This chapter takes place in the main dimension, where Atlas and Majesty have an extremely strained relationship because of their "break-up" and Atlas's suspicions. Majesty tries to insert himself into the investigation for another missing person which pisses Atlas off and leads him to arrest Majesty. Majesty says things he knows will get a rise out of Atlas, things Atlas told him in confidence. It gets heated quick.
> 
> The epilogue takes place in the mirror dimension, where Atlas and Majesty are married. Residents in the mirror dimension are sometimes able to see and hear things that their main dimension counterparts experience, dubbed "Flashes".
> 
> Minor warning for sorta kinda dubcon, at points. Communication is important, kids.

"Careful, Captain," he says mildly, bright eyes dancing as they flick back up to him. "You keep slapping me around like this and I might start to think you like me."

It takes a moment for it to sink in. He tries to believe Majesty isn't referencing anything by that but his fucking smile, so smug, so sharp - he can't mean anything else by it. Majesty chooses his words too carefully not to know what he's implying.

And Atlas _sees_ _red_. He curls his fingers in tight to Majesty's hair, pulls his head back, and slams it down on the desk. The breath snorts out of Atlas in billowing gusts as he stands over Majesty, hands balled into fists on the desk beneath them.

Majesty rolls his head to the side and Atlas can see the blood coming from his nose, brighter than the wine red skin of his body. Atlas wants to be alarmed - or, no, not even _wants_ to, he just is dimly aware he _should_ be. But he's not. He doesn't get the chance to parse how he feels before Majesty opens his mouth and lets out a watery groan. His tail, thick and powerful, curls up between Atlas's legs and strokes long and hard against him. Atlas bucks forward with the motion, his hips meeting Majesty's ass as that tail slips down and coils loosely around one thigh, holding him there.

"C'mon then," Majesty goads, grinding back. "Really give it to me."

A plume of heat explodes in his chest - anger, arousal, maybe both, he doesn't know. All he does know is that he's already partially unsheathed under his belt and he needs to get those tight pants off of Majesty _now_.

The ties above Majesty's tail are small and delicate and not suited for Atlas's big, blunt fingers, but Majesty's hands are cuffed and that's how they're staying. He only gives untying the laces a half-hearted attempt before he slips the dagger out of his belt, shimmies it under the cord, and slits it. 

" _Excuse_ you!" Majesty barks out. "These pants are high-quality leather, you can at least-"

Atlas cuts him off by shoving two fingers in his mouth and commanding, "Suck."

The response is immediate and intense. Majesty moans low, his mouth beginning to water, jaw slacking. Atlas presses hard onto Majesty's tongue as a reprimand and Majesty closes his lips around Atlas's fingers obediently.

His tongue is just as clever as Atlas suspected it would be, rolling around his fingers, drawing down the length of them, squirming as he swallows around the digits fucking his throat. "I guess you _can_ shut up," Atlas grits out, and he feels more than hears the tiefling grunt some kind of retort. Atlas forces in a third finger and is _entirely_ too satisfied to hear him gag.

Spit strings out on Atlas's fingers as he pulls them free of Majesty's mouth. He's not sure if he imagines Majesty chasing his fingertips with a kiss but he doesn't give himself time to acknowledge it either way before he's grabbing Majesty's pants and yanking them down to his knees.

It would be easier to accommodate Atlas's size if he goes in Majesty's ass but Atlas doesn't have time to prep him for that - he would come to his senses _long_ before it went that far. No, Atlas needs it hard and fast and _now_ and Majesty is already leaking beautifully, slick glistening on the inside of his thighs. He lets his hand rest heavily on his dick over his clothes. He's fully unsheathed by this point. It's straining against the taut, rough fabric of his coat, the belt around his waist cinching the sensitive organ almost painfully. He looses his belt with his other hand as he plunges two of the spit-slick fingers into Majesty.

He's velvet inside which Atlas should have expected, the smooth muscles wet with slick. Atlas presses his fingers as far as they can go and he's amazed to find how wet and open Majesty is without even being touched. What's more, he's hot - almost burning, his whole body running warm just under his skin. A tiefling thing, Atlas supposes. Majesty arches back and impales himself deeper still, his tail whipping. "Your fingers are so big, _fuck,_ " he grits. "You're gonna split me in half, aren't you?"

"Shut up," is all Atlas offers as he pins Majesty down by the shoulder. He pumps his fingers in short, rough jolts, plowing into that tight heat, scissoring roughly and trying to coax him open.

"Oh _fuck_ ," Majesty hisses, "oh gods, _ow_ , okay, little much-"

Atlas crooks his fingers on his next pass and almost immediately Majesty's nettling tone dissolves into a throaty sigh, his legs kicking out, hips jerking against the thick mahogany table. Atlas feels the rush of more precum and he stuffs the third finger inside. The sounds are lewd, wet and squelching, Majesty's breath hitching in tiny hiccups as he grinds his hips back against him eagerly. He tries to spread his legs more but the pants around his knees prevent him, so Atlas yanks one leg free of the fabric. As Majesty brings his knee up on the table Atlas manages to slide his fingers in up to the knuckle and Majesty _sobs_.

"So much," he mutters. "So full, _fuck_ , Atlas-" He rolls his hips back in shallow jerks, trying to get friction on that spot again, but Atlas pulls out his fingers. Majesty lets out a petulant whine. 

As Atlas leans back to remove the belt completely he watches the precum drip from Majesty's stretched heat, trying to gauge just how much of himself he was even going to fit. It had happened before - very infrequently, as Atlas had rarely taken a smaller partner as it was, but at least a handful of times - where his partner had been unable to accommodate him. This time, he decides, he doesn't quite care. He's going to wring everything he can out of this. Majesty knew what he was getting into when he provoked him so Atlas doesn't hesitate after he slips his cock free of his smallclothes, just lines the head up with Majesty's entrance and _pushes_.

It's smooth at first, where the head is tapered thinner, but as he feeds himself into Majesty more and more he can start to feel the resistance. Atlas gets in a little less than one-third before he can feel Majesty grip around him, grunting out in surprise. 

"Gods, kn-knew you were big," Majesty blathers, voice thin and reedy. "Thought about sucking you off so many times… how fucking far you'd go down my throat, _fuck…_ "

And Atlas can see it too, then - Majesty on his knees, lips red and flushed and wet, stretched around where his cock thickens, eyes still bright and devious and fixed on Atlas as more and more of it disappears into that smart little mouth. 

Majesty clenches as Atlas twitches forward, edging towards a third of the way in. He begrudgingly gives Majesty a moment, hands fisted into his loose tunic and knuckles turning an ashy pink with the force of it. It isn't long before Majesty gives his hips an experimental rock back and Atlas uses this as invitation to move again. He pulls back all the way, slow, torturously slow, feeling the soft, slick walls drag down his length before he's almost out completely.

Then he snaps back in and Majesty howls into the desk, his tail thrashing furiously. Atlas grabs the base of it with one hand and strokes up as he pulls back and Majesty lets out a choked sound that makes Atlas's cock throb. Using his tail as an anchor Atlas begins a fast and brutal pace.

He thrusts, and thrusts, and he's coming so close to halfway in before Majesty pulls away from instead of into the motion. "Ah-! Atlas, stop, stop, no more, I can't... i-it's too _big_ , won't _fit-_ " Majesty keens, his tail spasming in Atlas's bruising grip. 

A flare of anger bursts behind his eyes and he pins Majesty's shoulder down again. "Isn't this what you _wanted_?" he spits out, voice gravelly, punctuating his words with sharp thrusts. "And now that you get what you want you're complaining ? Pitiful." Majesty groans, high-pitched and urgent, fingers clenching and unclenching against the cuffs' chain. Atlas bows over him, grabbing his chin roughly in fingers still covered in Majesty's own spit and precum. " _You_ ," he seethes into the man's ear, "will take what I give you."

Majesty goes stock-still. " _Yessir_ ," he breathes, the slurred word more an exhale than anything resembling speech. And oh. _Oh_ . Atlas wasn't prepared for what it would do to him to hear this man call him _sir_ . This arrogant peacocking bastard, brought down so low, laid bare and open under him, calling him _sir-_

Atlas's hips snap forward and the sound he punches out of Majesty is more of surprise than pleasure. When he drags back out, though, Majesty heaves in a tittering gasp that he lets out in a loud, unabashed moan. Atlas moves the hand on Majesty's chin over his mouth in an attempt to cap it - anyone could be in that hall, Sabie could be running things to the mayor, Perry could be walking down to update a report, and the door wasn't even _locked_. 

So Atlas picks up his speed. He pulls both of Majesty's knees up higher, draping the man's twitching tail over his shoulder. The new position gets him even further and the noises Majesty is making are absolutely sinful. Atlas knows he's reached his limit to how deep he can go so he uses the fingers of one hand to cover the rest of his cock as he pumps in and out. 

"Atlas," Majesty rasps, his voice sounding wrecked, "please touch me, gods, _please_ , I need it, need to cum, please…"

"This not enough?" He puts all his weight into one quick, powerful thrust and he knows he's in further than Majesty can take even before the man cries out under him.

Atlas has no idea if Majesty does cum or not, just fucks into him hard and shallow until he feels his own release curl in his gut. He had not given thought to how he was going to cum but it was too late, buried deep into Majesty's cunt. Seed fills Majesty quickly, overflowing, down his thighs, staining Atlas's pants. Some part of him, some deep primal part of him, is angry that Majesty couldn't take it all. He wants to force it back into him, make him feel every single drop, hold him accountable for what he's done to Atlas. He leans his shaking hips up against the base of Majesty's tail, riding out the waves of the orgasm. He slips out immediately once it's done, staggering back and leaning against the back wall of the interrogation room.

Majesty looks _debauched_. His pants are pooled around one ankle, cut ties hanging in tatters down to the floor, cum painting his thighs, the underside of his twitching tail, his back. It's still oozing out of him, pooling onto the table. His hair is askew from how much of Atlas's grabbing and Majesty's thrashing it had just been put through. The blood is dried on Majesty's nose, he's sweating harshly, mouth agape and drooling as he gasps for breath. 

Atlas did that. Atlas _did_ that to him. He did that to him and he _liked_ _it_. The clarity descends on him slow, so painfully slow, watching the other man's back heave with labored breaths, focused on the way the cuffs bite into his wrists. When Atlas trusts himself to move he numbly grabs his belt from the ground and thumbs through to the cuffs' key.

After the restraints fall off, Majesty's arms drop limply by his sides and he takes more time to gather himself. He hisses when he finally moves his arms under his body, weakly pushing up to sit on the table. Atlas turns to the door before he can do so, adjusting his pants and buckling the belt around his waist again.

"I want you out of my station," he grunts. "This is never happening again." And before he can do anything else he'll regret, he opens the door just enough to allow himself through and leaves.

* * *

  
  


In another time,

another place,

Atlas slowly drifts out of sleep. His jaw is clenched tight. His whole body feels tense, on-edge. Most of all, though, he's rock-hard against his stomach. He's dimly aware of Majesty's tail twitching against the blanket, the gentle shaking of the mattress. It isn't until he hears a bit-back whine that he truly comes back to himself. He lays in bed staring at the ceiling while Majesty works himself through it. He hears the tell-tale sound of Majesty coming, the abrupt silence before the tattery, keening sighs. He melts back into the mattress, into Atlas, panting quietly. Atlas maneuvers his body more to face Majesty, letting the man roll into the curve of his hips.

"Oh, honey," Majesty says, still out of breath. "Sorry. Did I wake you?"

"No," Atlas replies immediately, though he's not even sure if it's a lie or not.

Majesty sighs and rolls his head to rest against Atlas's chest. "Just had a really… _intense_ Flash."

"I know," Atlas murmurs. 

"You had it too?" Majesty asks, and Atlas hates how easily Majesty can read into even the littlest of things.

"Yeah," he replies shortly. 

Majesty traces circles into Atlas's bicep idly. "I… must've said something horrible to get you that mad," Majesty mutters, snuggling further into the dip of his pecs. 

Atlas reaches around and runs a lock of Majesty's tousled hair through his fingers. Of course Majesty would only get to see the sex. Didn't have to feel the sting of his words cutting cleanly through him, even now. "We can… talk about it in the morning." 

Majesty cups Atlas's muzzle in his hands and he leans into it for a moment before taking Majesty's right hand and softly licking the fingers clean. "Hm, kinky," Majesty huffs into the pillow, and Atlas snorts a laugh. Majesty shuffles himself fully against Atlas and his knee draws ever so slightly against the length of Atlas's cock. "You need me to take care of you?" Majesty asks.

_Keep slapping me around like this and I might start to think you like me_ , another Majesty says in his memory - dream, _Flash_ \- eyes narrow, smile wicked. 

"No." Atlas kisses the knuckles of Majesty's fingers and curls the hand up to his collarbone. Majesty doesn't push the point anymore and melts into Atlas again, breath levelling out just like that.

Atlas tries to focus on the weight of the body against him and not the weight of the body under him, in his mind, in that Flash. 

He doesn't sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it wasn't obvious before, these characters are the ones that were based on endhawks and a lot of these fics were born out of the blueprint for my other work. Not that that excuses the constant reuse of words and phrases and scenarios lol


	4. epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atlas blinked at him for a moment and Majesty was caught in the way the firelight reflected in his lashes. "I want to... live my life," he replied slowly. "A life I decide. Not one I feel belongs to someone else. Not something I didn't earn. I want-" he stumbled over his words for a moment before he finished, "I want it to include you."
> 
> "Then we can try," Majesty offered. He put his cup down on the table and placed his hand firmly over Atlas's. "I want to try."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Necessary campaign background for story:
> 
> The PCs crossed over to the pocket dimension and defeated the god that kept it alive, in effect merging the memories of all the people who had doubles in that dimension. In the main dimension, Atlas and Majesty have to come to terms with the fact that while their relationship was tumultuous and antagonistic, they had the potential to be happy together.

It was late evening by the time Majesty finished up with the Mayor - but for good reason this time. The majority of the time was spent bemoaning how hard it was to function without Sabie around, how it wasn't her intern's fault but Sabie just  _ knew _ what Anastasia would need, and it just made everything that much slower with the new girl. That had changed into easy prattle about the baby, which the entire office had latched onto as convenient, neutral conversation. There was a betting pool, most of them saying girl. Perry was adamant he was going to have a strapping young boy. Harriet was hopeful it'd be another set of twins, though, as Anastasia grouched, "such a thing tends to skip a generation. She shouldn't get her hopes too high."

Majesty checked the orange sun as it peeked through the window, throwing the town into black silhouette. He excused himself, and Anastasia had gripped his hand just a little longer than usual and bid him a good night. 

He closed the door quietly behind him and hesitated just a moment, because even after a few weeks he still found his body wanting to go down the other hallway and pop by Atlas's office. Instead he ducked his way back to the lobby and waved goodbye to the intern, a sweet but harried young girl named Sondra. The girl startled before waving back enthusiastically.

"You're headed off too?" she asked.

"I am. I'll see you next week."

"Of course! Have a lovely evening Your Majesty!"

Majesty's smile came a little easier this time. That was the fun thing about new coworkers, at least. He didn't fault anyone for dropping the "your", but it was nice to hear from time to time. Before he could contemplate the "too" she'd used, he walked out the front door and into a conversation.

"I keep forgetting that!" Perry chuckled. The man was standing there easily, coat slung over his shoulder. "My folks were probably coming in the first month, but - oh! Majesty!"

Majesty didn't quite register Perry at first because it's Atlas he's speaking to, and every time he sees Atlas he goes through the same mental gymnastics where he recognizes him, recognizes what he isn't, and has to settle back into a grim unfamiliarity. Atlas turned back to Majesty with something of an urgency, and Majesty can only assume he'd gone through the same process because they didn't hold each other's gaze for long.

Perry drew his lips tight and looked between the two. "Well. Uh. I'd better head back to Sabie. Sorry to take up your time, Captain."

"Not a problem," he said, and Perry shot a quick salute to them before turning and leaving.

And then they were alone in the street. Atlas was positioned so completely in front of the stairs that there was no casual way to slip past him and go on his way, and he didn't seem very keen on moving.

"Captain," Majesty greeted with a vague nod, shrugging on his coat. It was a chill day, one that heralded the oncoming autumn. 

"Your Majesty," Atlas replied, and maybe it was Majesty being hopeful but it seemed good-natured. Atlas turned himself out of Majesty's way but when Majesty began down the street, Atlas matched his pace. He flustered a little at this.

"Has Perry been doing okay?" Majesty settled on asking. "At work, that is."

"Yeah, fine. No real change." Atlas blinked thoughtfully, setting his jaw. "Been a little awkward how they both answer to Lieutenant, though."

Majesty laughed. "Well, they were both Sergeant Hodges for a while. I'm surprised those two don't get themselves confused more often."

A snort of amusement, and Majesty can't help the way his heart flutters. "She's real excited about being an aunt."

"Anastasia told me. Said she thinks it's twins." Majesty chanced a playful elbow against Atlas's arm. "Could you imagine four of them?" Atlas shuddered, and Majesty laughed loud and deep, in a way he didn't think he had in a  _ long _ while. "Don't worry, it isn't twins." 

Atlas tipped his gaze down to the tiefling. "Should've figured you'd know already. What is it, then?"

"I'm not telling you," Majesty said with a musical lilt. "That'd be cheating."

"Cheating how?"

"Cheating because you haven't joined the betting pool yet."

Atlas snorted again. "You think I'd do something so underhanded?"

"I know you better than you know yourself, darling," Majesty replied, then clamped his mouth shut hard, the smile dropping from his face. His heart thrummed in his chest. He was sure Atlas would falter and leave him, as he always did whenever they… breached that subject.

But he didn't falter, didn't stop walking alongside him. "What about Anastasia?" Atlas asked. "Is she… doing alright?"

"She is," Majesty answered. "Better than she has been in a while, I'd say."

"Ah." A brief pause. "I was worried Sabie being out would make things harder on her," Atlas admitted. "Maybe I have it backwards though. She and Sabie probably have a lot to sort through, huh?"

"I can't quite comment on that. They're both my patients." Atlas snorted a laugh, and Majesty pursed his lips. "What's that about?"

"Nothing." He tried to busy himself with unbuttoning his gloves. "It's just… you and I both know you don't always draw lines in your relationship with patients."

Majesty let out a weak chuckle but it felt like the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. But... Atlas had  _ never _ brought it up to him. Hell, he'd hardly spoken to him beyond anything but work in the past few weeks, so he swallowed hard and stepped up to Atlas. "We, um-"

"No, I'm … I'm sorry, Majesty," Atlas interjected. "I can't, not now-"

"I think you can, Atlas. I think you have to." Majesty stuffed his hands in his coat pockets. "Did you even notice where you've been going this whole time?"

Atlas's eyes widened a bit before he looked up over Majesty's head. They were at Majesty's house. At  _ their _ house.

Majesty could see the muscles in Atlas's jaw moving as he tried to will himself to say something. "I can't… just walk back into your life."

"I know. But I can invite you into the house at least."

Atlas took in a deep breath and snorted it out, nodding curtly, so Majesty unlocked the door for them and led Atlas inside. He watched as the bull unconsciously started to undo his work belt before realizing the rack he'd hang it on wasn't there. "I can hang that up in the washroom," Majesty offered.

"I'm not staying."

"Then you can get it on your way out." Majesty extended a hand. 

Atlas sighed and passed the belt over. It always amazed Majesty how heavy the damn thing was - although, he corrected himself as he entered the washroom, he'd never really held it before. Not in this life.

Atlas hadn't left the entryway by the time Majesty returned. "Sage tea okay?" Majesty asked from the doorway.

"Don't you think it's a little late?" 

Majesty didn't admit to him that he hadn't slept well in the weeks after the Merge. It probably went without saying. "Okay, you want chamomile then?"

Atlas made a noise and finally started on his way over to the sitting room. "Sage is fine," he said.

Majesty was grateful for the distraction of making tea, allowing himself to sink into the familiarity of a process that no interdimensional nonsense could take from him. The water boiled quickly and Majesty scooped four tablespoons of leaves into the pot, just in case either of them wanted more. Of course, he was probably going to go through the whole pot himself. Atlas wasn't big on tea - he only agreed to it to be courteous. Majesty stood against the kitchen counter and allowed himself a moment to just  _ be _ , eyes closed, breathing in the comforting smell of sage before he set up the tray and shouldered his way into the sitting room.

He wasn't surprised to find Atlas in the spot he always sat - the  _ other _ Atlas always sat - with the beginnings of a fire sputtering in the hearth. His coat was draped haphazardly on the arm of the couch. Majesty set the tray down on the table between them and swiped the poker from Atlas's grip.

"You're still too heavy-handed with this," Majesty huffed. He moved some of the larger logs out of the way, giving the little flame time to gather itself amongst the kindling.

"I'm just heavy-handed in general," Atlas groused back, and Majesty couldn't bite back a laugh. He poured his tea and sat back, watching the steam ripple and curl up off the surface of the drink and dance in the firelight. 

They lapsed into silence that Majesty made no effort to break, and he could almost convince himself it was comfortable. Atlas's presence always set him at ease, even with the nagging he felt at his heart.

"I need to apologise. About Angie," Atlas rumbled at last.

This surprised him, but Majesty managed a level, "Okay."

He rolled the mug Majesty had provided for him in his hands, looking down at his lap. "It wasn't fair to you. I came to a conclusion too quickly."

"We never could have known what really happened," Majesty put in. "I don't blame you for what you thought."

"It wasn't even good Guard work, though," Atlas grumbled. "I was just…  _ mad _ at you. I wanted to believe the worst of you. There's no excuse for that."

"There were a lot of factors-" Majesty started, but Atlas leaned towards him and put the mug down on the table hard.

"I don't need a therapist right now, Majesty," he said tersely. "I need  _ you _ . I need you to know that I fucked things up for us and I don't know how to make that  _ right _ ."

Majesty blinked up at Atlas in surprise, face flushing. He nodded vaguely, taking a sip of the tea to try and bide time. "I apologise. It's hard to… parse what we are right now. I don't want to overstep."

"Not like that line was ever really clear to begin with." Atlas took the teapot and strained tea into his mug, though he still didn't drink it after he hefted the cup into his lap. "I just want us to be honest. That's all we can do now."

"Then I wouldn't say you fucked things up on your own," Majesty put in. "I was the one who crossed that line first. And I wasn't... professional to you after things got sour."

Atlas leaned back into the couch and thumbed his nose. "That's one way of putting it," he replied quietly.

Majesty winced, running his fingers over the rim of the teacup. "I'm… truly sorry. You shared things with me in confidence and nothing gave me the right to betray that trust."

"Calling you a serial killer is pretty good motivation."

"That doesn't make it acceptable, what I said."

The fire popped as it climbed onto one of the large logs, startling Majesty. Atlas let his gaze slide over to the fireplace, propping an elbow on the arm of the couch and resting his head on his fist. He sighed heavily. "I guess we're both kind of fuck-ups, huh."

Majesty hummed in agreement. "At least we've acknowledged it. First step towards improvement."

Atlas huffed a dry laugh. "I suppose. So where does that leave us?"

"Where do you want it to leave us?"

"Please don't be cryptic, dear."

Majesty groaned. "I'm not trying to be. I meant that in earnest; what do you want?"

Atlas blinked at him for a moment and Majesty was caught in the way the firelight reflected in his lashes. "I want to... live my life," he replied slowly. "A life I decide. Not one I feel belongs to someone else. Not something I didn't earn. I want-" he stumbled over his words for a moment before he finished, "I want it to include you."

"Then we can try," Majesty offered. He put his cup down on the table and placed his hand firmly over Atlas's. "I want to try."

"But what if we fuck it up again?" His voice came out soft, something that always took Majesty by surprise. "I know what it feels like to lose you."

"And I know what it feels like to love you, and I'd risk everything for it." Atlas clasped Majesty's hand and he ran his thumb over the knuckles, broad, callused, strong. "I said I'd never give up on you. I don't want you to give up on yourself. We'll fight together."

Majesty must have said something right because Atlas grinned warmly, and Majesty's heart stuttered in his chest. "Things aren't going to be the same, though," Atlas said, his expression softening a little. "No matter what we do, it's never going to be like it was over there."

"I know," Majesty said, a smirk spreading across his face. "You said you wanted to earn it, right? Because I can definitely make you work for it, if that's what you want." 

"Oh, no, I take it back." Atlas pulled his hand free of Majesty's and swatted at his shoulder. "You're an absolute monster when you have something over me."

"I was kidding, no!" Majesty chuckled, grabbing at Atlas's arm. "I'll be a perfect gentleman."

"Now  _ that _ would be different."

"You're so  _ unsupportive _ ," Majesty whined. He hoisted himself up out of his chair and over to stand in front of Atlas, cupping his jaw with his hands. Atlas's eyes fluttered shut and he pressed into the touch, sighing soundly. 

"Just get down here," Atlas said, bringing his arms around Majesty's back. He acquiesced, folding easily against the bull and nestling his cheek against the coarse, short hair between the bull's horns. Atlas held him tightly, one hand at the base of his neck, curled into his hair, the other resting at the base of his tail, and it felt so  _ right _ . So much so that Majesty couldn't find it in himself to slip out of the embrace, just ran his hands absently up and down the broad muscles of his back while Atlas brought his head up onto Majesty's shoulder, their horns grazing and interlocking.

"If you don't leave now," Majesty muttered into his fur after a while, "I may not let you leave at all."

Atlas faltered just a moment before he pulled back and held Majesty's arms loosely, and he looked so intensely at him that he thought -  _ hoped _ \- that Atlas would stay after all. "Yeah, I should go," he admitted. He passed his hand through Majesty's curls, gripping gently and pressing their foreheads in the briefest of touches before he brought himself to his hooves. 

"I'll get your belt," Majesty offered with a pat on Atlas's arm. He maneuvered his way past Atlas and trotted over to the washroom, pausing just a moment to press his face into his hands and sigh. His nerves felt like they were all alight. 

Atlas was waiting at the doorway in his coat, buttoning his gloves back up. He plucked it from his hands with ease and Majesty was  _ very _ briefly jealous of the belt.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Majesty said, leaning against the doorframe.

"What're you up to tomorrow?"

Majesty pressed his fingers to his chin. "I'm going to join the betting pool for the baby, of course." Atlas snorted and cuffed Majesty on the shoulder. "Maybe I'll stop by your office too. Who knows. I'll take it one day at a time."

Atlas's dark eyes hovered on him for a long moment and even with the chill wind coming through the doorway, heat flushed up to his ears. Atlas passed his hand down the back of Majesty's head one more time and buried his fingers into his hair, tipping his head back just enough to kiss him chastely. 

"Good night," he said.

Majesty replied with an extremely dignified squeak of affirmation before making a show of clearing his throat behind a closed fist and answering, "Yes, good night." Atlas smiled with his eyes and stepped out the door, Majesty watching him go until he was out of sight. 

The fire was blazing happily when Majesty finally made his way back to the sitting room to collect the tea tray. Sure enough, when Majesty picked up the mug he found Atlas hadn't had any of his tea. Sighing affectionately, he poured the liquid back into the teapot. He sat down with the empty mug cradled in his hands, resting his head against the back of the chair and listening to the popping and crackling of the fire. Everything felt warm and safe and secure.

For the first time in quite a long time, Majesty found himself drifting into a peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's all I got, thanks to anyone who's read these! Again, they're mostly self-indulgent pieces but I hope other ppl enjoy them.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not much of a writer but these two have invaded my brain and I wanted to stop hoarding all these fics in my google docs


End file.
